


Before the Fall

by takadainmate



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takadainmate/pseuds/takadainmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the height of summer, when the crickets are at their loudest and the sun has turned the trees and the grass into dry, brittle things, Oz announces he wants to go swimming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ceitean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceitean/gifts).



In the height of summer, when the crickets are at their loudest and the sun has turned the trees and the grass into dry, brittle things, Oz announces he wants to go swimming. It's hot, so hot that the heavy layers of Ada's dress stick uncomfortably to her legs and all she wants is to hide in the shade somewhere with a cold drink, and sleep away the hours and days until autumn. No one ever lets her do that though. She's a big girl now, they tell her, and she's not allowed to take naps any more, or hide in the cellars where it's cool and dark and damp; creepy places, the adults tell her, are not for ladies. But Ada likes them, and so does Oz. Gil doesn't, but goes anyway because he'd never let Oz go somewhere without him.

"The lake is too far away," Gil complains. "We'll get into trouble."

Ada doesn't remind him that they'll probably be in trouble as it is, because they've found their way in to the store rooms again- their old means of entrance blocked up by the kitchen staff, but Oz had found a new way in; an old door with loose wooden slats- and Ada's dress is already ripped and dirty. Oz's knees are scuffed and there's a black smudge like oil down the side of his face, but he looks happy and doesn't seem to care, and Ada doesn't either. It's not as nice as the cellars, but Oz didn't want to be in the house today. Ada thinks that Father had said something again, because Oz's smiles are very wide, and his eyes are very sad.

She thinks that Gil can see it too.

"They'll never find out," Oz argues, and hooks an arm around the back of Gil's neck. "You're just scared because you can't swim."

From the way Gil's face falls, Ada is sure that he can't.

"I don't know how to swim," Ada offers. Sometimes, her brother teases Gil too much, she thinks, and anyway, it's the truth.

Oz laughs. "Then I can teach you," he says, and reaches his hand to Ada. "You want to learn how to swim don't you? What will you do, if you go on a boat and there's a big storm and you fall off! You'd drown if you didn't know how to swim, so it's best if I teach you."

Oz is looking at Ada, and he's talking at Ada, but Ada knows he's really talking to Gil. He does that a lot, as though there are some things he just can't say to his friend directly. Ada doesn't understand why.

Even so, Ada has never been swimming before, and she's never seen the lake, and it's hot and sweaty and the storerooms smell of milk that's gone off and rotting salted meat. "I want to go!" she announces, and only feels a little bit guilty at the pained expression on poor Gil's face.

***

" _No_ , Gil," Oz is laughing, and Gil flounders in the water again, almost drowning himself with the way his arms flail and his feet beat against the surface. Ada giggles and watches and keeps her feet firmly on the pebbly floor of the lake. It's beautiful here, and the water is as cold as she'd hoped. She doesn't care how much mud and grass stains have smeared her lacy, fancy, annoying and scratchy vest. It's heavy in the water, but she likes the way the material floats as she moves. They've been here an hour, maybe more, and Gil's nose and shoulders have turned pink from the sun. She thinks hers probably have too and doesn't care at all. It's probably lunch time, because she's a little bit hungry, but no one will find them here.

The lake is surrounded by tall trees, standing close together and bright green, and Ada thinks she loves them. Around her, the water is so clear she can see her feet kicking up little swirls of dirt with every step she takes. When he lifts her legs up, paddles with her arms like Oz showed her, it's easy to float and move around and Ada doesn't understand why Gil is having such problems.

He's got a miserable expression on his face, his hair wet and dripping around his face and into his eyes, and he's coughing like he breathed in half the lake. Oz amiably pats him on the back.

"You're not _fighting_ the water, Gil," Oz says.

"I'm no good at this," Gil complains, frowning at the water like it's all the lake's fault.

Ada swims closer to the boys. "Why can't you just float, Gil?" she asks.

"Maybe he's too heavy," Oz suggests. "It must be all that hair."

Her brother rubs his hand over Gil's head, and Gil squeaks a protest and pulls away, but Ada can see that he's almost smiling.

"Ada's hair is longer," Gil argues.

"Ah," Oz says, sagely, "But girls' hair is much lighter, due to its hollowness." Her brother nods, and is grinning, and Ada is not sure if he's telling the truth or not. From the way Gil looks dubiously at Oz, he isn't sure either.

When Oz just grins more widely, Gil sighs in that resigned way of his and shakes his head slowly. "Can't I just watch from the shore?" he asks, hopefully.

"You can't," Oz tells him, and his expression turns mock-solemn. "Swimming is an important skill. I wouldn't want you to drown, just because I'm such a poor teacher I can't even show you how to _float_."

For a moment, Gil looks flustered. Ada knows Gil hates it when Oz blames himself for things, because he thinks everything bad is his fault. Because their Father tells Oz that everything bad is his fault. "You're not a bad teacher, Master Oz," Gil insists, and he sounds almost _angry_. "I just haven't practiced enough."

Gil's got that determined look in his eye, and he immediately sets about moving his arms back and forth, and paddling his feet the way Oz showed them. He sinks, but Oz is there straight away, holding him up by the arms and saying, "Let me show you again, Gil."

And when Gil is busy practicing kicking off the lakebed, splashing about and nervous, but at least not drowning himself this time, Oz looks to Ada and winks.

Her brother, she thinks, is very clever. And she's glad, because the weight and the guilt and the fear from earlier is gone now, and all that's left is Oz and Gil and her and the lake and the warm summer day.

***

They swim, or in Gil's case flounder, for a long time, until Ada's fingers are as wrinkled as an old maid's and she is so hungry her stomach feels hollow and strange.

Usually, Ada thinks, Gil would have long since started nagging at Oz to go home, afraid of being reprimanded or getting lost in the dark or being found by strangers. But Gil hasn't once asked to return, so absorbed in learning to swim, in carefully mimicking Oz's graceful movements through the water. He doesn't like it when his head goes under the water, and his cheeks are flushed with the effort even though the water is cool, and even the temperature outside is slowly falling. Still, sometimes when Oz looks at him and tells him he's doing well, and that's good, Gil smiles and Ada knows he's having fun.

Oz, too, really likes telling Gil what to do; showing him and helping him, and Ada has always known her brother loves to boss Gil around but there is something different about this. Something less like teasing and more like how Uncle Oscar sometimes reads her a story and tucks her in at night.

It's only when the sun begins to sink behind the tall trees, casting long shadows over the lake, that Oz seems to notice how late it's become and announces it's time to leave.

Even though Ada's a little cold and a lot hungry, she's still sad to have to leave.

"We'll come back here soon," Oz promises, plaiting her hair neatly as she dresses. She doesn't think it really matters what her hair looks like, because there is no way no one's going to miss how her dress is covered in mud stains, damp at the edges. Somehow, Gil has grass in his hair, and Oz's shirt is wet in patches where he'd dried Ada off and from where his skin is still wet. It's too late to worry about getting into trouble now. There would be no hiding it. Gil still worries anyway.

"What will we say?" he asks, looking forlornly at his crumpled short trousers.

"It was a hot day, so we went swimming," Oz says cheerfully, and Gil's face turns a little bit green, like he's sick.

"Oh," he groans. "They'll be so mad."

"Maybe they won't have noticed we disappeared all day," Ada suggests, because sometimes the adults barely notice the three of them exist and they can go for hours and hours without anyone coming to check on them. It should make Ada sad, she thinks, that their Father never wants to have much to do with them. The servants are always so busy. It makes her miss a mother she never knew. She's read in stories about parents who love their children, and play with them, and sing to them when they're scared and hug them when they're tired. But Ada has Oz, and she has Gil and Uncle Oscar too so she doesn't believe, most of the time, that the stories are true. She has something better, anyway.

Like swimming and Gil complaining that his socks won't go on his feet right because they're too wet, and Oz hooks a hand under his arm to help Gil balance and laughs at him.

"What if they never let us out of the house again?" Gil worries.

"Then we'll escape," Oz assures him. "We could always say we were mugged by a gang of twelve thugs, and when they discovered we had no money they threw us in the pond!"

Ada thinks it's a good story. "And you saved us, big brother!" she adds, because that sounds like something that would happen.

"Exactly!" Oz agrees, standing up tall and straight and looking like a grown up, Ada thinks. Gil covers his eyes with his hands and shakes his head.

"Let's just go home," Gil says.

Oz takes Ada's hand. "I'll tell them you ran away." Oz is grinning, and doesn't wait for Gil to pull on his last shoe before he starts walking, following the path away from the lake.

"I wouldn't do that!" Gil calls after them.

As he runs the few steps to catch up, Oz turns to Ada and says, "We don't really think he would, do we?"

Ada smiles back, and just as Gil reaches them she replies, "Of course we don't."

***

It's not often that Ada is outside after dark, and it's not that she's scared or anything- not really- it's just that she doesn't know where they are. The world looks so different; tree branches cast long, creepy shadows, reaching out like skeleton hands, scratching at her face and snagging her clothes if she doesn't pay attention. There's none of the colour of the day, instead everything is washed out to blues and blacks and purples. The way the forest encroaches onto the path no longer feels like safety, like hiding from the world, but is confining and threatening.

Ada holds Oz's hand more tightly, afraid that if he lets go she'll never find him again. She'll wander the forest forever, hungry and alone and scared. Maybe there are animals out there; wolves or bears or tigers, and they'll eat her. She presses close against her brother's side.

"It's alright," Oz tells her softly, and squeezes her hand reassuringly. "Gil," he says, and Gil takes her other hand tightly. Ada can feel him shivering. The warm day has turned to cool night and they were already half-cold from the cool water, their clothes and their hair wet. They've been walking for so long that her feet are starting to hurt. Oz isn't shivering, but he is frowning, looking from side to side and back the way they came and ahead. He keeps giving Gil looks, and Gil would shake his head, and Ada doesn't know what any of it means.

"Big brother," she whispers, tugging on his hand. "Why aren't we home?" Because they've followed the path and they haven't turned off at all, and the path goes home, but Ada can't even see the lamps of the stables, or of the house. There are just trees and _black_ and there should be more.

"Just stay close," Oz says in a low voice, as though there's somewhere out there to hear them, watching them. Ada thinks she can see eyes, shining like gemstones just beyond the boundary of the path. Hundreds of them. And there are noises too, like a hissing murmur all around them, branches snapping like people, or _creatures_ following them. Ada wants to cry, but she has to be strong, because Oz is, and Gil is, and crying won't help them get home. Instead, she hides her head against Oz's shoulder and is glad when Oz hugs her close. He walks faster, so fast it's difficult for Ada to keep up, but she doesn't mind if it means they get home more quickly.

Gil leans in close to Oz, and Ada hears him whisper, "We're going around in circles."

Oz whispers back, "I know," and Ada wants to ask how they can tell when everything they pass looks the same; darkness and trees and how can they have been going around in circles when they've been walking straight all this time?

"Should we try going back?" Gil asks, still hushed and more urgent now.

Oz looks behind them, and Ada can see he's worried. "No. I don't think that will work," her brother replies. Though he doesn't offer any ideas about what _will_ work.

Then, out the corner of her eye Ada sees something and pulls Oz and Gil to a stop. She blinks, and whatever she can see becomes clearer.

"I see a light," she tells them, and points.

It's off the path, somewhere deep in the forest, but it's the first thing they've seen in a long long time and Ada wants to go to it. "It must be one of the lanterns from the groundskeeper's house," she says, because she knows his house is in the forest, far out from the mansion, but how they would have come to be by his cottage doesn't make sense. Ada has looked at maps of the mansion with her brother and with Uncle Oscar before, and the groundkeeper lives on the other side of the estate. But then, they have been walking for _hours_.

Oz holds Ada tightly so that she can't move away, as though he doesn't trust the light. As though he's afraid to step off the path and into the trees.

He looks to Gil.

"We can't keep going all night," Gil says, voice still hushed and worried. "It's too cold."

Ada can see the way Gil is shivering too, her own teeth chattering, and she desperately just wants to be inside in the warm, somewhere familiar, away from the darkness and the fear. Ada doesn't like being afraid.

Oz sighs heavily, and he doesn't look like he's happy, but he tells them, "Don't let go of each other," and leads them off of the path and into the forest.

***

The ground is soft, here, and the further they go the squishier it becomes until it's almost bouncy. It's warmer too, and the trees don't seem as scary any more now that Ada can see the lights more clearly. There are lanterns strung along a fence, and firelight from the windows of what looks like a cottage just beyond it. There's a narrow worn path leading towards the light and they follow it carefully, picking their way through brambles and clinging to one another.

The house, when she can finally see it clearly, doesn't look like any of the houses on their estate; it's sort of rounded at the edges where the buildings she knows are always neat and square. The brick is crumbling away, and the roof is thatch. The closer they get, the stranger Ada thinks it is, but it's something different from the path so she tries not to be afraid. They can get help, Ada tells herself. Find out where they are, and how they got lost.

As the three of them come to the gate, where the forest ends and the clearing the house stands in begins, Oz stops. He looks back, and when Ada turns to see what he's looking at, she can't even see the path they followed here any more. It's as though the world just stops behind them, and beyond it is nothing. Ada doesn't like it, so she turns to the house, and thinks how inviting it looks. There's a vegetable garden in front of it, a shovel leaning against the wall. The door is closed, but there are pretty flowers and vines twisting their way around the doorframe. The way the light flickers inside makes Ada think there must be a big fire, and she tugs on Oz's hand.

"I'm cold," she tells him quietly. "Can we go inside?"

Oz looks at her for a long moment, and she can't tell what he's thinking, but then he smiles and says, "All right. Let me do the talking, okay?"

She nods, because she doesn't like talking to strangers anyway, and slowly, carefully, Oz crosses the threshold, leading Ada after him. Gil seems reluctant too, because he pauses at the gate, taking in a breath like he's just stubbed his toe. But he follows, because he always follows.

It smells of ginger, Ada thinks, and freshly cut grass, and there's a strange glow coming from somewhere, like from the moon, except there's no moon tonight. Inside, she can see the shadow of someone moving about. They're humming, and the tune sounds strangely familiar.

It must be a woman, Ada decides, and wonders what she is doing, living alone so far out in the woods. Perhaps she isn't alone, and her husband is out wood-cutting or hunting, or else he's asleep inside. She wonders if they have any food.

Oz doesn't hesitate before knocking on the door, but he pushes Ada behind him, and keeps Gil close.

From inside, Ada can hear a bustling sound, and then the scraping of a heavy lock being drawn across. And when the door opens, spilling light and warmth out onto the doorstep, Ada shrinks back.

They're greeted by an old lady, bent over almost double. Even though she's no taller than Oz like that, she still somehow manages to look down her nose at him.

Ada's been taught to be polite, and to remain courteous at all times, regardless of how someone looks or acts, and she knows that she's just a visitor to this woman's house, but she's so wrinkled and pock-marked, and her clothes are torn and dirty and Ada can see that her nails are black and her feet are bare and suddenly all Ada wants to do is _leave_. There's a horrible smell, coming from inside the house, and Ada hugs her brother and presses her face against his back hoping that the old lady won't see her.

When she speaks, her voice is deep and sharp and Ada thinks it hurts her ears. "Such young things," she says, "To be out so far into the woods so late. It's dangerous out there."

She feels Oz stand up straighter. "I'm sorry to disturb you," he says in his most polite voice. "But we got lost going home, and we were hoping you could tell us where we are."

Ada is glad he didn't ask for rest or food. Beside her, Gil draws closer.

"Why, you're at my house," she says. "But you must be cold and tired to have come so far. Come in, come in."

Oz hesitates, but then Ada hears Gil let out a cry like he's in pain, and the warmth where he stood at her side disappears.

"Madam," Oz says, and when Ada looks, the old woman has Gil by the arm, her long fingernails digging into his bare, sun-burned skin, and she's pulling him inside.

"I have tea," the woman tells them, as though it's nothing, and Ada doesn't want to see, but Oz is following inside, and they have to because no way can they leave Gil alone in the house with this woman. It's wrong, Ada tells herself. It's all wrong. Why did she want to come here? Why did she insist on going inside? Oz knew something was wrong. Oz _knew_.

"That's-" Oz says. "Thank you. But we really should hurry home. Our family will be looking for us."

Ada isn't sure it's the truth, but it's a good lie and she nods in agreement.

The old woman deposits Gil into an ancient-looking wooden chair halfway across the room. There are drying herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling, and jars and jars of things Ada doesn't want to look at too closely lining the walls. She sees the great fire Ada had been hoping for, outside, and on it sits a large black cauldron. It's very hot, the flames burning bright red. It's making her tired, after the cold and the swimming and the walking. The summer's day and the lake and the laughter seem a very long way away now.

Above the fire is an oven door, like a baker's but bigger. There's nothing in the room except for a table and three chairs, and an old broom propped beside the door.

In his chair, Gil is looking at Oz, panicked, and Oz is getting angry.

"We really have to go," Oz tells her again. "If you can't help us, we'll show ourselves out."

He moves towards Gil, hand outstretched, and Ada sees the old woman's face as she turns away from her hearth where she was stirring the water in her pot. It's more hideous than before, hateful like Father's sometimes is when he sees Oz, _wicked_ Ada thinks.

But even though she's scared her eyes keep closing. She's so tired, and the world has gone sort of fuzzy.

Blearily, she grips her brother's arm as tightly as she can, afraid she's going to fall asleep where she stands, and the last thing she sees is Oz's eyes, wide and concerned, and he's calling her name.

***

When Ada awakens, her head hurts and she's very warm. Too warm.

It’s stuffy wherever she is, air heavy with the pungent smell of herbs and spices and mould. She wonders if she's been sick. It's hard to remember what happened, and why she's lying with her head on Gil's lap. He's holding onto her tightly, and Oz isn't there.

"Big brother?" she calls, but Gil shushes her and shakes his head. He looks so scared, and Ada wants to tell him it's okay. Oz will take care of them.

And then she sees where they are, looks up and around and there are bars all around them like a cage. They're white and lashed together with thick rope. She remembers the old woman, then, and the sweet smell of the fire and how it had made her sleepy, and she understands why Gil is so scared.

She clings closer. "Where is big brother?" she whispers, because he wouldn't have left them. He never would.

It's dark, wherever they are, the only light pouring through the cracks and edges of the door just beyond their cage. Ada can't see anything else in the room. She doesn't remember seeing any other rooms before.

Gils whispers back, "I think he's out there." He points towards the door. "Sometimes I can hear him talking, I think."

Ada listens, but she can't hear anything other than her own breathing and Gil shifting about on the ground. It's hard and Ada just wants to go home to her bed, and forget about the forest and the old woman and this cage. She doesn't like being trapped, and she doesn't like not knowing where Oz is.

She knows it's the sort of thing a little girl does, and that she's supposed to be a big girl now- a _lady_ \- but she can't stop herself crying and she turns to hide her face in Gil's stomach.

"I can't hear him," she says, and Gil hugs her and strokes her hair and tells her, "It's okay. Oz will save us."

He sounds very sure, and Ada knows her brother so she believes him, nodding against his chest.

"Do you think she wants to eat us?" Ada asks, looking at the white bars that aren't metal or wood, remembering the strange oven. She won't think of Oz in there. She won't.

For a moment Gil looks stricken, and Ada thinks Gil probably hadn't thought of that, but then he forces a smile that Ada doesn't believe at all.

He laughs nervously. "No, no. Nobody eats children," he says. "Anyway, we're too skinny." Ada wonders if he's trying to convince her or himself.

There's a loud scraping sound from beyond the door then, like someone moving a heavy chair across the floor, and both Ada and Gil freeze, holding their breaths.

She can't make out what's being said, but she recognises Oz's voice, and the old woman's, and it doesn't sound like they're arguing or anything. More like Oz is explaining something.

Then there's the sound of metal against metal, and a long silence.

Somehow she hears Oz say, clearly, enthusiastically, "Look and see!"

More chairs scraping, and then there's an angry cry. It's not Oz.

Gil covers her ears with his hands, pulls her head close so she can't see and she thinks she's glad she doesn't know what's happening. She just wants Oz to be there with them like he's supposed to be.

Even with Gil holding her tightly Ada can hear the roar of fire and screaming and the slamming of a metal door and so she pretends this is all a game of hide-and-seek, and Oz is looking for them. She's counted up to fifty before he finds them.

"Master Oz!" Gil pulls her with him to the bars of the cage, and she watches as her brother pushes open the heavy door. When he sees them he looks relieved. There's something strange, though, about the way he's standing; stiff, controlled, like when their Father is close by.

"Are you both okay?" he asks, and runs over to them, reaching through the bars that Ada won't touch to hold Gil's shoulder and to touch Ada's hair.

"We're okay," Gil tells him. "What happened? Are you all right? Are we safe?"

Oz smiles, and it's almost real. "We're safe now," he says, but doesn't say any more and Gil frowns at him like he wants to ask more questions. "Later, Gil," Oz tells him. "Let's go home now."

He wipes away the tears from her cheeks. "I'll get you out of here."

"I knew you'd come for us." Ada sniffs, and knows she's being a cry-baby but Oz just strokes her face and Gil holds her hand and she knows, with them, she'll always be safe.

***

They never go back to the lake, and they never talk about what happened.

A year later, when Oz and Gil are gone, and Ada is alone and trying to find out about things everyone tells her she's too young to understand- tragedies and prisons and another world beyond theirs filled with hate and anger and fear- Ada remembers the forest that never ended and the house that didn't exist.

In an old, worn storybook she finds the tale of a brother and sister who become lost in the forest and find a house belonging to an old hag. The old woman was once a baker, the story reads, who hated naughty children so much she baked them into pies. She wonders if the story is true; if they met the same old hag that night. But they weren't naughty, Ada reasons. And when Oz had led her and Gil out of the house, his hands gripping tightly at their wrists pulling them quickly along, Ada hadn't seen any pies.

Nor had she seen the woman, and sometimes, Ada wonders what happened to her. She wonders how Oz had managed to get away.

In the story, the brother tricks the old hag and pushes her into her own oven.

Ada had never asked, and Oz had never said anything about that night, and she tries very hard to forget the smell of burning meat as they'd left the cottage.

END


End file.
